


The Gravediggers Memories

by irismoon



Series: Love, A Life, And What Comes After. [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 20:53:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irismoon/pseuds/irismoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He deals with his grief while digging the graves.</p><p>Sequel to Three Unspoken Words</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gravediggers Memories

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been in my head for weeks. Finally got around to writing it down. 
> 
> Sequel to Three Unspoken Words
> 
> Warnings: Character Death
> 
> Spoilers: To be safe, everything thru the show, and all 5 books.
> 
> Disclaimer: It all belongs to GRRM
> 
> Un-betaed.

Sandor 

 

He was sitting in the Elder Brothers solar. For the forth time in recent weeks, he had been found passed out in one of the storage rooms, having drunk as much wine and mead as he could find. Sandor sat uncomfortably waiting for the reprimanding he knew was coming. He tugged at the rough robes that itched his skin, and tried to feel guilty, but mostly he just felt numb. 

"I have a task for you Sandor. I would like you to return to your Gravedigger duties." Elder Brother began slowly. 

"War is over, Brother. Bodies are not washing up, Towns are no longer being sacked. Not many graves needing dug now." He mumbled. 

"Ah, but there is more to this task. I want you to dig the graves. Clear your mind as you work, focus only on the task at hand. Think of nothing else until the grave is dug. Perfect, deep, even. When the task is done I want you to allow yourself one memory. One memory of your life with Sansa. Lose yourself in the memory. Deal with the emotions that you feel, the good, the bad, the pain, the loss. When you are done, then the memory can no longer hurt you. You can think of it again whenever you choose. The next day, same task. Dig the Grave, then choose another memory. 

"What good will this nonsense do me?" he growled. 

"You need to get control of your emotions. I cannot have you keep lashing out at the other Brothers, or drinking yourself useless. Sansa came into your life for a reason. You lived those happy moments with her, and you should be able to look fondly back at your time together. For now, you are living in fear of the pain those memories will cause." 

Sandor sat quietly for a time, thinking on what the Elder Brother said. After a time, he stood and walked outside. 

 

****** 

 

He stood in the lich yard, shovel in hand. He stared for a long time at the cold hard ground. After some time he began to dig. He lost himself in the repetitive motions. His muscles began to burn and his skin was soon damp with sweat despite the chill in the air. 

When the grave was dug he sat next to it, ready to consider which memory to relive. It didn't even take a moment, before the image of Sansa appeared in his head. The day she got the dress. 

 

****** 

 

They had been living in Clegane Keep for a few months, when the gifts began to arrive. Mostly from the Lords in the North who had been loyal to her father, and remembered her and her family fondly. Crates of Mead from the Umbers. Beautiful Furs from the Mormonts. A supply of salted Fish from the Manderlys. All addressed to the new Lady Clegane congratulating her on her wedding and wishing her happiness. 

Then one day several crates arrived from Highgarden. Sansa tried to refuse them. Told the messenger she didn't want anything from the Tyrells. The accompanying note was from Lady Margaery. Sansa read it over and over, with tears in her eyes. She told him that at one time, before all the politics and treatchery got in the way, they had once been friends. She wished that she could believe the gifts were simply from one friend to another, but she couldn't trust the Tyrells. Not after everything that had happened. She left the crates unopened and walked away. 

He woke in the night to find her gone from their bed. Rising he found her in the courtyard staring at the unopened crates. She couldn't sleep, she explained. What if there were fresh fruits in the boxes. Even if she didn't want them, maybe she could gift them to the servants, or the villagers. It would be a shame to let it spoil. 

Before she could worry anymore, he had gone and retrieved a crowbar and began to pry the crates open. She smiled at him and began to rummage thru the gifts. It seemed to be a variety of things, Silks and Spices from Essos, and a crate that indeed held lemons and peaches. Sandor carried the fruits to the kitchens. When he returned he found her holding a scrap of cloth and digging thru the straw packing with a confused look on her face. 

"It appears to be a dress of sorts, but part of it must be missing." she said holding it up. "This can not possibly be all of it." It was a dark green with brown detailing. It was silky and sleeveless, and cut down the center very low. 

"You saw those gowns the Queen wore, sometimes her breasts were almost bare." he said smiling. 

She stuffed the dress back into the box. "Well I would never dare wear it." She stood then and went back inside the keep. 

***

The next day he found her in their room, standing before the large mirror, holding the dress to her body. He smiled at her. "Go on, try it on. No harm in that." he encouraged. She blushed and quickly stripped off her heavy wool gown and shift. 

The silky fabric of the new gown clung to her body. She twirled around dancing a bit, showing it off. Sandor growled, admiring all the glimpses of her creamy skin that were exposed, and pulled her toward him. As he tugged on her arm, her breast fell out of the gown. 

She giggled and blushed and tried to cover herself, but he had already brought his mouth to her nipple and sucked gently. She hissed a bit and pushed him away. He looked at her questioning. 

"I am sorry, they are just sore." she whispered. She sat in his lap and placed his hand on her stomach. "I saw the Maester, he said I am most likely with child." 

He held her silently for awhile, his hand slowly rubbing her still flat stomach. "There is going to be a baby." he finally said kissing her. 

Soon she was leading him to the bed, tugging the ill-fitting dress off as she walked. 

*** 

He stopped himself. He couldn't bring himself to relive their lovemaking. He would go crazy if he did. He picked up the shovel and walked angrily back to the shed, wondering if he could find where they had hid the wine from him this time. 

 

****** 

 

He found himself waking at dawn and walking back to the empty grave. As he stared into the dark hole, he found himself remembering her blushing face, as she tried on the dress. He smiled for a moment. Then he took his shovel and began digging a second grave. 

The second memory was there, nagging the back of his mind while he dug. He tried to keep it at bay but finally he gave up and let it flood his senses. 

*** 

He had been sleeping, her body was warm and soft in his arms. His hand was resting on the slight swell of her growing stomach. Suddenly he felt it. Movement beneath her skin. He rubbed his hand in a small circle and felt it again, harder this time. 

She giggled and turned to look at him, her eyes blinking as they adjusted to the morning light. 

"Does it hurt you?" he asked her. 

"Sometimes a little, it can be uncomfortable. He is going to be strong, like his father." she smiled placing her hand on top of his. 

"How do you know its going to be a boy?" 

"I just know. I can see him in my mind when I close my eyes. He has your dark eyes, and brown hair. Not dark like yours, but not red like mine. More like my brother Robbs." 

"So what shall we name this son of ours?" he questioned pulling her to lay across his chest. 

"I have the perfect name picked out." she smiled. "I'll tell you as soon as he is born." she giggled. 

"Silly Little Bird." he laughed. pulling the furs tighter around them. 

*** 

He threw the shovel down. She was right of course. A boy, dark auburn hair, dark eyes. She never told him the name. He never could bring himself to name the dead child himself. She knew his name, and she took that with her to her grave as well. 

Why wouldn't she tell him? Did part of her know, that he would be left alone here without them? It was a fitting punishment for all the wrong he had done to her. She bore him a child and stole it away to the heavens before he could even know his name. 

He had tried all the names in his head. Her family names. Eddard after her father, or her brothers, Robb, Bran, Rickon. None of them seemed right. Maybe her bastard brother at the wall, Jon, or her uncle Edmure. He tried common names, William, Samuel, Thomas. He tried crazy names, Drogon the Queens dragon, Tyrion her first husband, Florian the fool. Even names of people she hated, Joffrey Petyr, Meryn, Boros. The longer he thought the madder he got. 

***

For the second day in a row, The gravedigger stormed away. 

 

****** 

 

As the days went by, he continued his routine. He dug grave after grave, filling in the holes when he ran out of room, only to dig them up again. He lost himself in memory after memory of Sansa. Sometimes he would fixate on a single thing, like remembering the way the light from the fireplace would shine on her hair, or the sound of her laughter. 

Other times he would get lost in a memory, replaying every detail in his mind, Remembering what she was wearing, the smell of her perfume, the feel of her skin against his. He began to isolate himself more and more from the the others on the Isle, and Elder Brother began to visit him in the Lich yard. 

He would sometimes tell him stories about her. Always simple stories, like the time she tried to bake him a pie for his nameday and burned it black as coal, or when she tried to talk an unwilling Brienne into braiding her hair into some crazy new style. He was careful which stories he told. He liked to keep his memories mostly to himself. They were all he had left of her, and he didn't want to share. 

****** 

Months or perhaps years passed. Time seemed to hold no meaning for him any longer. All he had was the graves, and his memories. He knew Elder Brother was worried about him. His attempt to calm his rage and deal with his grief had worked too well, and now he was stuck in a world of his own. He didn't mind. He was content to live his days this way. 

 

****** 

One cold morning he was having trouble digging his grave. His bad leg seemed to pain him more than normal. Winter was coming. He smiled at remembering her house words. 

He seemed to have trouble catching his breath this day and kept having to take breaks. He didn't mind. He would pull one of her ribbons out of his pocket and softly finger the strips of cloth. His arm began to bother him, feeling heavy and numb. He stumbled to sit under a large nearby tree to rest for a bit. It was getting harder to breathe and his chest began to ache. He closed his eyes for a moment. 

He felt a tickle on his face and opened his eyes to see snowflakes softly falling around him. Off in the distance there was a hooded person walking toward him. He knew it was her, he would know her anywhere. She was so beautiful it hurt to look at her. The pain in his chest and arm were suddenly gone as she stood before him, lowering her hood to gaze down upon him. Her red hair a blaze of fire against the gray world. 

"Little Bird." his voice rasped harshly. 

She smiled at him a moment, before offering him her hand. He stood easily, his bad leg not bothering him at all. 

"Are you real." He held on to her hand, feeling her slender fingers curl around his. 

Before she could respond, he saw Elder Brother running toward him shouting. He walked toward him but the man hurried past. Sandor turned and looked back toward the tree where he had been sitting. 

Sandor Cleganes body sat slumped against the ground. 

****** 

"I'm dead." he said after a few long moments. 

"Yes." came her soft voice. 

He turned and reached for her, the sleeve of his robe falling back. He stopped as he noticed his burns, the ones from the fight with Beric Dondarion were gone. He ran his fingers over the skin. 

He looked at her finally. "My face?" he asked her hesitantly. 

"You see yourself as you want to be seen. Your burns were very much a part of you in life. I know how much pain they caused you my love. If you wish them gone, they will be." 

He stood looking at her, trying to figure out what to do, what to say. A movement near her legs caught his attention. Looking down he saw a small boy gazing up at him from within her skirts. 

"Will you come with us now, father." his small voice asked. Sandor stared into the young boys dark grey eyes. 

He felt tears come to his eyes. "What is your name, son?" he asked, then looking back at Sansa. He grasped at her hand, his emotions overwhelming him "Please, I need to know his name." he begged her. 

She smiled sadly. "I feared you would not approve. I had hoped once he was born, you would agree, there was no better name. As soon as I saw the name written in the book of your family history, I knew no other name would fit. His name is Aldor." 

"Aldor, after my grandfather." he said softly, nodding. He looked back down at the boy. "Hello Aldor." he said. 

"We have been watching you for so long father, But mother says you get to come with us now." he said excitedly. 

He nodded and took the boys hand. 

"You are both so beautiful," he mumbled. "Two beautiful Angels, taking me to the heavens, or are you Demons, here to trick me into Hell." 

"Neither" she said laughing. "Death is simply the end of this life, and the beginning of the next." 

"What does happen next?" he questioned holding them both close. 

"We waited for you, so we can find out together."


End file.
